Chloe and Sadie, Outer Banks of North Carolina Summer 2013, by Karen Craven

Chicago ABC 7 Floyd Kalber wishes happy birthday to Karen Craven, NIU student and President of the Society of Professional Journalists. Kalber spoke to the chapter that evening about his journalism career.

Snowy day, Karen Craven at Hidden Lake DuPage County Forest Preserve

Papa and Bridget laughing

Minneapolis Morning, by Karen Craven

Karen in Calligraphy, Karen Craven Studio Art 1989

The Republic, Jackson Park, by Karen Craven

Category: Career

We can dress up these offenders, teach them how to write a story and convince the world that they are really good people. And externally they may appear so. But you can’t hire a pr-consultant to paint you as a respectable human being when inside you are not.

Melancholy. Numb. Ambivalent. Nothing good in those words. On most days I can flip those words inside out and find a bright side or silver lining, but today it’s just not there. Last Tuesday my friend had a bad day. She woke up angry. She could not put her finger on it. She thought maybe she was letting too many people manager her time. She went to read her usual pick me ups. She tried to journal. Nothing worked. I told her she was having an “I’m so bitchy I can’t stand myself” kind of day.

I don’t want to work for anyone anywhere. I want it to mean something and make a difference, and while that may sound Pollyannaish, it’s true and the truth is my north star. I want to inspire and be inspired.

I’ve always wondered without journalism where we would be? What if no one photographed Pearl Harbor, Vietnam, or September 11, no one documented the Civil Rights Movement or Women’s March, nothing to intricately connect our shared experiences like fine Irish lace? Outside of our those shared experiences, each family needs its own history keeper. Each family should know its own truths. Who knew that when my mother gave me a Christmas ornament 24-years ago that its meaning was not so much about the trajectory of my career, but more about my role in this family, its history keeper?

There are these moments in our lives when a person comes into it, presented like a perfectly wrapped present, with a tag reading, “Enjoy this gift. Love, God.” And that is what Maggie was, and remains. A constant source of laughter, love, and friendship.